Acrimonious
by soulessGal
Summary: This is a short story after the Day of Doom, following one lost soul.


**Confessions: I broke my phone and I tried (and failed) to cover it up. I stole the title from word of the day. Also, I don't own the 39 clues.**

Ian watched the letters, grouped with more letters to form words, and these were organized one after the other to make a sentence. It all felt meaningless to him. He kept reading the same line, but he couldn't figure out what it said. The whole book didn't make any sense. Was it fiction? Ian wasn't fond much of fiction.

He felt someone sit down next to him. Since it was too heavy to be the blasted cat, he didn't bother to check who was. He found all his relatives to be depressing to look at. It was weird to see the Cahill act so exhausted and out of character.

They defeated the bloody bad guys. They covered it up and put everything back to the way it was as neatly as the family always did. Even the losses to their side weren't that big: one dead lawyer, one less boyfriend trouble and half of the snobby Kabras gone to hell. Or was it three quarters? Ian wasn't sure yet what happened to his father, nor did he care deeply. All's well that ends well, right?

Except everyone were drowning in their own sorrow and self-pity. How terribly tough is the life of a Cahill! We have to be prepared for the next crisis when it strikes! Worry this and worry that! Ian never had to worry about a thing in his life and he wasn't about to start to.

Less then three years ago, Ian Kabra was the perfect, rich and handsome boy, who got whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. From there he lost his money, his family and everything he ever owned, apart from his looks. He didn't predict getting ugly in the near future; therefore, he still needed to worry about nothing.

"Are you okay?" The carefree Kabra didn't feel like socializing, especially not with Daniel Cahill. Yet, the younger boy seemed to be, for some reason, concerned over him. "I mean, you've been staring at the same page for a while and…"

What an observation! Should he be touched? The other boy wondered. Does he have to be nice as well?

However, the sound of his distant cousin stirred up a different, wrong range of emotions. Most of them were rather nasty. Nevertheless, his voice was blank and betrayed none. "I'm aware of that." He said.

"Oh," Dan looked away awkwardly, but Ian's gaze stayed on him.

He was surprised to feel guilty. It wasn't for crashing the friendly attempt to start a conversation. Ian's cousin looked like he needed sleep more than a heart to heart chat. His dark blond hair was messy, even more than usual, and dark bags hung underneath his unfocused, emerald eyes. He seemed to be aware of his couch-neighbor's stare, and not very comfortable with it.

No. Ian didn't have an angry conscience because something he said or did, but because of a thought that crossed his mind for a mere second. It was understandable in his situation, he argued, to wish your misery upon someone else. So he was bitter and lonely, and Amy Cahill was in a Coma. Consequently, in his worst moments, he couldn't help but want her to stay that way, forever.

He didn't claim it to be noble or righteous. He knew another's sister's death couldn't possibly bring his back. On the other hand, if it only stayed buried inside the soul, an idea couldn't possibly hurt anyone.

Ian immediately got tired of pointlessly defending his faults against himself, and forced his attention to the book instead. Criticizing that nonsense story of pirates and princesses brightened his mood a bit.

However, as it became too inconceivable to read, he had to put it down.

Beside him, Dan was almost too painful to look at. Ian took a minute to ponder over his options. He considered all that torment to be an eyesore. Look at me! He wanted to shout occasionally, it could be worse!

He certainly did not want to give out a wrong impression. Empathy would be belittling the pain over his sister's tragic end. Yet, he was about to somehow cheer up a Cahill.

"What are you doing here?" He felt content to hear his voice as cool and steady as a Lucian's voice should. Dan didn't realize instantly he was talking to him. When he did, he turned to him with what Ian called a ludicrous face. "What do you mean?" He asked. "I have a right to be in _my_ house. Why are _you_ here?"

Ian held back from insulting and explained himself. "Why are you sitting with me and not there with your sister?" He tilted his head to the general direction he thought Amy's room was. Funny, he thought. He didn't check on her once since they got to Attleboro.

"Nellie threw me out. She told me I should catch some sleep." Dan tried to sound cheery. He wasn't awfully convincing. "Only I can't fall asleep." He admitted.

Both of the boys turned their head simultaneously to the punk babysitter. She was curled, like a big cat, on an armchair. Her eyes were close and earplugs stuck in her ears, though they could still hear the loud music playing.

Ian raised an eyebrow. "Don't underestimate her," advised Dan. "She's like a ninja. She will be on full alert the moment I make a move."

"If she is awake," Ian stood up and straitened his white shirt. "I have a matter to talk to her about. Do whatever you want." He hesitated, but decided not to say anything else.

He walked towards Nellie. She was a good person. After all the chaos she had gone through, she found time to feel concern even for him. Otherwise, he could have kept wondering aimlessly on the Rocky Mountains.

She opened her eyes as he approached. Maybe Dan wasn't exaggerating. He waited for her to turn off her iPod before he spoke, "Could we talk, preferably over a cup of tea?" He realized he really wanted to talk to her (and to drink some tea). Nellie Gomez was a reassuring figure in a way. He thought of consoling her about returning to England.

"Okay" was her short and simple answer. She stretched her hands, jumped to her feet and turned to the kitchen.

Ian glanced back before following her. He spotted Dan sneaking to Amy's room and his mouth unwillingly curved up a little. There was never a doubt in his mind the girl was going to wake up, and he felt it should be her brother's face the first one she saw.


End file.
